A Soft Place to Fall (Shelter Rock Cove)

by Barbara Bretton

  Sweeney, who had been watching Annie carefully, pushed her bowl aside and leaned across the counter. "So how long have we known each other?"

  "I can't remember ever not knowing you." Sweeney's colorful dress and language had been part of the landscape since Annie was a little girl dreaming of a career in the arts herself.

  "Then you know I only want the best for you."

  "Uh-oh." Annie dusted crumbs from her fingertips then reached for the slender bottle of Tabasco. "That sounds ominous."

  "I went down this road myself after Number Two died and I know how hard it is to start over again."

  "The house will work itself out. I don't know what Claudia's been telling you about it but –"

  "Annie." Sweeney's tone brooked no argument. "We both know I'm not talking about your new house."

  Annie pushed her own soup bowl aside and fiddled with her paper napkin. "I think you're jumping the gun."

  "Maybe I am," Sweeney conceded, "but I know what I saw and you can't deny it."

  "Really, Sweeney, a relationship is the last thing I'm interested in right now."

  "Is it?"

  "Of course it is. Between the store and the new house, when would I have time for anything like that?"

  "You might be able to fool yourself but you don't fool me. I've seen you tap dance away from Dr. Talbot and the other men who've come calling around here. You didn't do that today, Annie."

  "Claudia noticed too, didn't she?"

  "You bet your patootie she did and she's out there right now, trying to figure out what to do about it."

  "Claudia is strong-minded, but I don't think she's manipulative."

  "Neither do I, sweetie, but I do know she's scared and she's lonely and she's not about to lose you if she can help it."

  "Lose me? She's not going to lose me."

  "You know what I'm saying. More so than any of her own children, you're her link to her son. She wanted you to turn your big house into a shrine to him the same way she did for John."

  Sweeney was right. Selling the house had cut Claudia to the quick. She could only imagine how Claudia would feel if she knew the real reason for the sale.

  "I'm not looking to replace Kevin and certainly not with a man I just met yesterday."

  "Maybe not, but one fine morning you're going to open your eyes and find out that, like it or not, you're in love. Don't postpone the rest of your life just because you don't want to hurt Claudia."

  Annie rested her forehead on the cool wooden countertop. "Can you tell me why life has to be so damn complicated?"

  Sweeney threw back her head and laughed. "Honey, if I could tell you that, I'd rule the world."

  #

  Annie finished assembling the three bridesmaids' bouquets for the Sorensen-Machado wedding a little before three o'clock and began the bride's bouquet. Sweeney and Claudia were working on the altar flowers and Annie was pleased to see they were all right on schedule despite the holiday weekend and her move. Her part-timers had done a wonderful job manning the shop yesterday while she was settling into her new house. She owed Tracy and Joan a weekend off with pay for stepping into the breach.

  She was grateful Sweeney was working with them today. Sweeney never met a silence she couldn't conquer with another story from her colorful life. If Claudia had hoped for the chance to grill Annie about her new neighbor, she never had the opportunity.

  Eileen's daughter Jennifer and her friends burst through the front door a few minutes later, smelling of suntan lotion and high spirits.

  "Hi, Aunt Annie, Grandma." She kissed them both then plucked a chocolate candy from the bowl Claudia kept at her right elbow. "Hey, Sweeney! Can we turn on the radio? Do you have any soda in the back? You don't think I look fat in this top, do you?"

  "Fat?" Sweeney exclaimed as the girls disappeared into the back. "My left thigh is bigger than she is."

  "She's beautiful," Annie said wistfully, "and she doesn't have the slightest idea."

  "Neither did you two when you were her age." Claudia twisted some wire ribbon around the stem of an unarmed alstromeria. "If I had a penny for every diet you girls embarked on, I'd be a wealthy woman."

  "I wouldn't want to be sixteen again," Sweeney said as she reached for a creamy white rose. "You think the world's spinning on your axis. I didn't realize I wasn't the center of the universe until I was thirty-three."

  "I'd go back to sixteen," Claudia said wistfully. "All of that wonderful energy and enthusiasm." She paused for effect. "Not to mention knees that don't click when you walk up the stairs."

  "And no cellulite," Annie said, trying not to think about how she must have looked when Sam found her asleep in the tub. "I can't remember my thighs without cellulite."

  "Honey," said Sweeney, "I can't remember when my thighs didn't rub together like two sticks at a Boy Scout campfire."

  Claudia snipped off a length of ivory satin ribbon with a pair of shears. "Dim lighting and a peignoir set have saved more marriages than separate bathrooms." She looked across the table at Annie and Sweeney who burst into laughter. "Go ahead and laugh," Claudia said, joining in, "but believe it or not, you won't be young forever. One day you'll be grateful for kind lighting and a floor-length robe."

  Oh Claudia, thought Annie as she got up to find more babies breath. What would you say if I told you it was kind lighting and a floor-length robe that got me into this mess?

  The girls finished the boutonnieres around five o'clock and left in a flurry of giggles and broken blossoms. Sweeney and Claudia completed the last of the centerpieces then stowed them in the huge refrigerator along with the bridesmaids' bouquets.

  "Sorry to bail out on you, ladies, but I have myself a hot date tonight and I need a little time to change my sheets and shave my legs."

  "Good Lord!" Claudia sounded appalled but there was no denying the twinkle in her eyes. "Is there a man in this town you haven't . . . dated?"

  "Honey, I'm importing them from New Hampshire these days." Sweeney gathered up her huge tote bags and rummaged around for the keys to her old VW bus. "I'll be here at noon to help decorate the church."

  "You don't have to do that," Annie said, meaning it. "You've helped me enough already."

  "And you'll help me when the Autumn Art Fair rolls around," Sweeney said with another laugh. "You know I'm not shy."

  Sweeney went out the front door as Amelia Wright and her sister Terri Cohen came in through the back, carting a huge box filled with their latest soft sculptures. They specialized in whimsical creatures like griffins and unicorns and delighted in setting them in unlikely spots around the shop. When they saw what Annie was up to, they quickly rolled up their sleeves and pitched right in.

  "I still haven't closed the books for August," Claudia said, extending her fingers then shaking her hands in front of her. "Maybe I should see to that while Amy and Terri are here."

  "Sounds fine," Annie said, aware of Claudia's troubles with arthritis. She felt vaguely guilty for not relieving the woman much sooner. But then what didn't she feel guilty about these days? She felt guilty for selling the old house, buying the new one, auctioning off her furniture, you name it and she was certain she'd felt guilty over it at one time or another over the last two years.

  Claudia closed the books at six-thirty and came forward to collect her purse and sweater. "Eileen and the children are stopping by for breakfast tomorrow morning after church. You know you're welcome to join us before we set up for the wedding."

  Annie stretched and managed to stifle an end-of-the-day yawn. "Thanks but I think I'd better tackle some of those boxes waiting to be unpacked. If I don't do it now, I'll still be staring at them come Christmas."

  "I'd be happy to come over and lend a hand."

  "I know you would," Annie said, feeling like a rat for thinking unpleasant thoughts about her mother-in-law, "but you do enough for me already. If I do a little each day, I'll be finished in no time."

  Claudia slipped into her pale ivory sweater and tucked her
purse under her arm. "You work too hard, Annie. You've looked so tired lately. I worry about you."

  "I'm strong as an ox." She flexed a muscle. "At least Ceil seems to think I look like one."

  "That woman's tongue could curdle cream. She told me about her cousin's eye-lift then gave me one of those knowing nods of hers."

  Annie laughed. It was the first natural moment they'd shared all day. "Did she offer you the doctor's business card?"

  "No," said Claudia with a shake of her head, "but that pudgy hand was dipping into her apron pocket for one as sure as I'm standing here." She cupped Annie's face and Annie saw a world of caring and love in her soft blue eyes. "You get some rest tonight, do you hear me? You've been pushing yourself way too hard."

  Annie's eyes closed briefly against a rush of emotion that was as comforting as it was complicated. "I love you, Claude," she said softly. "Don't ever forget that."

  Claudia patted her cheek briskly. "As if I could."

  #

  Claudia always stopped at Yankee Shopper on Saturday evening to do her marketing. Ceil rarely worked on Saturday and Claudia considered it a small victory for personal privacy when she managed to purchase her pair of veal chops and Idaho potatoes without enduring the woman's shameless scrutiny.

  Thomas in produce waved hello to her from across the aisle and she nodded back in greeting. Thomas had been one of Kevin's high school friends, a likable young man who hadn't quite managed to live up to potential. Not that Claudia was being judgmental. Far from it. It was just a terrible shame when a smart young man allowed himself to be content stacking tomatoes in a small town supermarket.

  Thomas was nearing forty now and it was beginning to show in the lines around his dark brown eyes and the slight paunch billowing behind his Yankee Shopper apron. Kevin had been built on a grand scale, same as his father. She liked to think he would have retained his impressive proportions well into old age without running to fat.

  She had bumped into Thomas's mother Audrey last week at the Breast Cancer Bridge Marathon at the hospital. Audrey was beside herself with grandmotherly pride as she spread a fistful of photos on the felt-covered table. "Thomas and Mary Ann just had number four," she said, beaming with delight over the little red-faced bundle in the photographs. "That makes six for me and one more on the way."

  Claudia, who was no slouch in the grandmother sweepstakes, whipped out the thick packet of photos she kept always at the ready and treated the girls to a rundown of ages, weights, and accomplishments that would have sent her spinning into a coma if she'd been on the receiving end.

  "Good Lord in heaven," Audrey exclaimed, same as she did every time. "They're certainly a fertile bunch!"

  Eleven grandsons and granddaughters and two on the way. Claudia loved each and every one of them but not even the richness of her blessings was enough to make up for the fact that there would never be a baby for Kevin and Annie. When Kevin died, he took the future with him and the empty spot he'd left inside his mother's heart would never be filled. The sorrow she had known when her husband died had almost destroyed her but even that, terrible as it was, paled beside the towering grief she experienced when she buried her son. A mother shouldn't bury her son. It was against the laws of both nature and man. Some sorrows cut too deep for healing.

  She and Annie had clung to each other during those early days, one supporting the other when their grief threatened to overcome them. How grateful Claudia had been that Kevin had been fortunate enough to marry a girl like Annie Lacy. Annie had loved him the way a wife should love a husband and Claudia had loved her all the more for that fact. Sometimes she had wondered if there were problems in the marriage but, if there were, Annie kept her own counsel and Claudia respected that. Husbands were imperfect creatures and it was a smart wife who learned how to work around the flaws.

  Had she told Annie lately how dear she was, how the family would not be the same without her vibrant presence at its heart? She couldn't remember. The truth was she thought of Annie as one of her own, and that was the problem. To Claudia's mind, Annie was just like Eileen or Susan or any of her other children and she expected her to know that she was loved and valued.

  But Annie wasn't blood. She had come to Claudia just before her sixteenth birthday, as scared and needy a young girl as Claudia had ever seen, and Claudia had done what any other mother in her circumstances would have done: she opened up her heart and home to the girl.

  When did you stop trying to keep a child out of harm's way? Did the caring stop when your son turned twenty-one? Did it end when your daughter turned thirty? How did you steel your mother's heart against the dangers that waited for the ones you loved more than life itself? Oh, how young and lovely Annie had looked this afternoon when that man stepped into the flower shop. Her dark blue eyes twinkled, her skin grew luminous – she even walked with a graceful sway that Claudia had never noticed before. She wasn't so old that she had forgotten the way it all began and she wished with all her heart that she could protect Annie from the pain that was certain to follow.

  How much safer it was to wrap yourself in the memory of love . . . .

  "No coupons today, Claudia?" Midge Heckel began running her purchases over the scanner. "There's a cents-off coupon in Pennysaver this week for sweet butter."

  Claudia sighed. "No butter for me, Midge. My cholesterol is giving me fits."

  Midge launched into a litany of her medical woes which Claudia matched, ailment for ailment. The woman laughed as she bagged Claudia's purchases. "The wonder is we're still alive and kicking."

  "I guess God isn't quite finished with us yet," Claudia said as she removed two twenty-dollar bills from her wallet.

  "Well, He'd better hurry up," Midge said, "because it seems to me we're running out of time."

  #

  "We land in Bangor in fifteen minutes, Mr. B."

  Warren Bancroft looked up at the young man in the dark blue uniform and nodded his head. "Right on time, Jason," he said with a glance at his watch. "That's ten in a row. I'm impressed."

  The young man grinned. "Captain Yardley said you would be."

  Warren managed to withhold a grin of his own. "You tell Captain Yardley –" he stopped in mid-sentence. "On second thought, I'll tell her myself once we're on the ground." He liked to deliver bonus checks personally.

  Jason gathered up Warren's empty juice glass, a discarded copy of The Wall Street Journal, and a deck of playing cards with loons on the back then disappeared into the galley while Warren folded his reading glasses and put them away in his breast pocket.

  Sonia Yardley was turning out to be one of his greatest successes. He had met her ten years ago when she was flying kids for a nickel a pound out of a little air strip near Wiscasset and using the proceeds to help pay for her college degree. He did a little discreet checking and discovered she had a 4.0 GPA and damn little else. He never once regretted seeing that a Bancroft scholarship went her way. Now Sonia had a handsome pilot husband, a beautiful baby girl, and a future that could take her as far as she wanted to go.

  Warren felt sorry for rich old men and women who sheltered their money in ice-cold tax havens and never knew the joy of seeing that money turn a young person's life around.

  Of course it didn't always work out the way he intended it to. Sometimes not even a man's best intentions could coax good fortune out of hiding for the ones he cared for most of all. That was how it had been with Annie and Sam. Annie's blossoming art career had been put aside before house payments and her husband's problems. When was the last time she had set up her easel and taken out her paints? Five years. Maybe ten. What about the carvings and sculptures she'd wanted to make? She'd laughed when he asked her to consider creating something for the museum and said she wouldn't remember how. He was saving the place of honor for her just the same. She used her gifts to create exquisite floral arrangements and that was all well and good but it wasn't what she was born to do and anything less was a crying shame.

  And look at Sam. He h
ad carved out a brilliant career that had given him nothing in return except money and now, not even that. He had sacrificed everything for his brothers and sisters and they hadn't a clue that he was in the fight of his life.

  Warren understood the boy straight through to his marrow. There was no greater sorrow in life than letting love slip through your fingers because you couldn't find it in your heart to say the two little words she needed to hear.

  Don't go.

  But that was his story and he had made his peace with it a long time ago. He had moved onto other loves but none had ever burned as brightly in his heart than the first.

  He wanted Sam and Annie to have the one gift he had never had: the singular joy of loving and being loved for a lifetime. For all of their bright promise they were both still alone and he was determined to change that before his Maker called him home.

  Matchmaking wasn't half as easy as bestowing scholarships and jobs on deserving candidates. There was no Wharton School for love, no Harvard Business for romance. The most you could do was put a man and a woman on the path toward each other and hope for the best.

  When Sam called earlier that afternoon with his request, it was all Warren could do to keep from offering unsolicited advice. She's a fiercely proud woman, boy, he'd wanted to say as he listened to the younger man's idea. If it smells like charity, she'll throw it back in your face like a week-old cod.

  But Sam was high on the idea and in the end Warren acquiesced. He wouldn't be at all surprised if Sam found his offerings in the street before the night was over.

  #

  It was nearly seven by the time Annie closed up the shop and climbed behind the wheel of her truck. She waved at George, one of the local cops, who was ticketing young Vic DeLuca for a parking violation. George and his wife Sunny had lived next door to Annie and Kevin for seven years before they moved to a small farmhouse a few miles outside of town. If George had ever wondered about some of those late-night visitors who occasionally found their way to Annie and Kevin's front door, he never gave any indication. There were times she had almost prayed somebody would see a strange car idling in her driveway or wonder aloud why so many of the Galloways' checks bounced each month but it never happened. Not once in all those years.